


Shared Burdens

by bainsidhe



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bainsidhe/pseuds/bainsidhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been seven years since the Grey Warden Loghain Mac Tir last saw Leliana, the mysterious Orlesian bard who, against all odds, captured his heart.  Now they are reunited serving the Inquisition, but can such old wounds ever be healed? </p><p>For the Thedas' Most Bangable challenge, paying homage to that most sexy of all grumpy generals, Loghain Mac Tir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shared Burdens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bushviper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushviper/gifts).



> This is my entry for the Thedas' Most Bangable challenge, in which I had to honorably represent the pure and extreme sex appeal that is Loghain Mac Tir (and get him laid, of course). I hope to have succeeded - well, at the first part, anyway. I know I succeeded at the second part ;) 
> 
> NB: This fic is entirely unrelated to my ongoing Loghain/Cousland WIP From the Ashes, and exists in its own continuity. 
> 
> This fic is dedicated to bushviper, who requested some hot smut of Loghain and Leliana doin' it in Skyhold, with the implication that they'd been lovers in the past. I hope this lives up to all your sexy hopes and dreams! Enjoy!

A cold alpine breeze sliced across the parapets like an assassin's knife, sending the banners – emblazoned with the eye of the Seekers of Truth and the sword of the templars, now appropriated as the symbol of the reborn Inquisition – fluttering madly against the ramparts. The Frostbacks were inhospitable at the best of times, but perched up here, at the top of the world, he couldn't but admire their stark beauty. Little wonder the Avvar worshipped the mountains themselves.

He wasn't entirely certain what to make of this 'Inquisition.' On the one hand, they seemed Orlesian in all but name – toadying up to nobles, playing the Game, courting favor and currying influence in Val Royeaux – but on the other hand, they had been willing to actually get off their arses and _do_ something about the damned hole in the sky, and the pointless, brutal war between the mages and the templars, and countless other crises and problems that the rest of Thedas refused to address. The sky was healed, but he knew Corypheus was still out there, and the Wardens still hunted him. The Inquisition, whatever else it might be, had offered him safe haven, and seemed to understand the true threat Corypheus posed. That would have to be enough, at least for now.

"Copper for your thoughts."

A soft voice intruded into his thoughts – an Orlesian voice, but one that did not rake across his ears like steel on glass. A familiar voice.

He turned from the parapets and saw her standing there. The years had changed her. Not her face – that was as lovely as ever, inquisitive blue eyes set in a porcelain face, framed by a bob of bright red hair. But now she hid beneath a cowl, her features shadowed, hidden, obscured.

"Leliana." Her name was strange but comforting on his lips, and memories of years ago, of the last time he'd spoken her name aloud, quickened his pulse. "I had heard you served the Inquisition now." It is good to see you – he thought the words, but did not speak them. There was a shadow in her eyes, and he was unsure if she returned his sentiment. It had been so long.

"You are remarkably well informed for a man who has been living in a cave," she said, and for a moment, a ghost of her old smile – playful and sweet in equal measures – danced across her lips. It heartened him – he could play this game. It was the game that had drawn him to her, in spite of everything he'd felt about what he thought she was, all those years ago.

"I do leave the cave occasionally," he offered, allowing the corner of his lips to quirk in the barest hint of a wry smile. She had always loved when he'd done that. "A man can't live on deep mushrooms and nugs alone. Unless he's a dwarf, I suppose."

She laughed, and the tinkling, crystal sound charmed him, until he saw that her mirth did not reach her eyes. "None could mistake you for a dwarf, Ser Warden." Her laughter faded, but the distance in her eyes remained. "Though I admit I was unsure it was really you, at least until I saw you up close. You've changed." She furrowed her brows in mild consternation, and an odd melancholy gripped him. He'd always loved it when she'd gotten cross with him – but not too cross – and he had endeavored to provoke such a response in her as often as possible. But now she seemed not cross, but – not herself.

"Why did you cut your hair?" Her words cut through his ruminations. "I always liked your hair." There – a measure of wistfulness. Had she missed him too, then? Or was this another mask?

He shrugged, raising a hand to his considerably shorter hair. "It seemed like vanity after a while, I suppose. Especially once the Wardens exiled me from the Order. I had no home, no duty but to stay one step ahead of them. It seemed frivolous to fuss about my hair."

"And yet you did not shear it all off," she replied, again allowing a hint of a smile. "Perhaps you retain some vanity yet."

He harrumphed without thinking – he, vain? Of all the ludicrous absurdities!

"Ah – there is the Loghain I know." This time, her laughter reached her eyes – and his pulse quickened again. "Always such a grump. It sounds funny, but I think that's what I missed the most about you."

"You missed me?" The words came unbidden, and so he crossed his arms across his chest, hoping to affect a nonchalance he did not feel.

"Of course I missed you." Her frown was genuine now, and he found himself oddly pleased to know that he had managed to deliver even the finest crack to her carefully constructed mask. "And what of you? Do you not feel the same?"

It was his turn to furrow his brows in irritation. "I should think it obvious that I do," he rejoined.

"Then why not reach out before now?" she challenged. "You knew about Corypheus, you knew the Inquisition is trying to stop him – why did you remain in hiding? Why did you not come to me?"

"I am not the one who cut off all contact, Leliana." The old wound flared, a forgotten pain reignited. "I knew little of the Inquisition's motives, and I still don't. You certainly made no attempt to reach out to me either, not until Hawke made contact. Do not place this rift at my doorstep."

"I did not cut you off," she replied heatedly. "When Divine Justinia offered to make me her Left Hand, would you have had me refuse? She gave me a purpose, a way to use my talents to serve the Maker! You would have denied me this?"

"I denied you nothing. I did not realize that becoming the Divine's Left Hand meant that _your_ hand was incapable of writing a letter. You could have kept in touch. You could have invited me to visit you."

"In Val Royeaux? The beating heart of all the Orlesian wealth and privilege that you so thoroughly detest? You would have navigated the Game and all its pitfalls for the sake of a woman?"

"Is that it?" He arched an eyebrow. "You feared your uncouth Fereldan lover might make a spectacle of himself before the pompous fops in their frilly salons and shame you?"

"That's not – ah, you are impossible, Loghain!" She had been fond of saying that, once. She had loved to feign exasperation with him, throwing up her hands and telling him he was impossible, insufferable, infuriating – all of which had caused him to smirk with anticipation, knowing what would shortly follow. There was nothing feigned about her anger now, but knowing that she felt something was better than fearing that she felt nothing at all.

"I never knew why you stopped writing to me. I thought perhaps you'd found someone else. I never would have begrudged you happiness, Leliana. I know that the life of a Warden is not the kind of life that lends itself well to stability or – " He almost said relationships, but they'd never had a 'relationship' – not really.

"It was never about that, Loghain." An undercurrent of anger thrummed through her subdued voice. "It was never because of you. It was because of me – what I had to become to serve the Divine. What I had to sacrifice to ensure that I could devote everything to keeping her safe." A scowl marred her delicate features, and Loghain realized he'd never before seen her truly angry, not like this.

"And for what? So she could die like a lamb at the slaughter, murdered at her own Conclave? Everything I did, everything I gave up – it wasn't enough. _I_ wasn't enough. It was my job to keep her safe and I failed." He'd never seen her this raw, this vulnerable – but before he could reach out to her, say anything, she had carefully reassembled her mask of indifference.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I won't fail the Inquisition as I failed Justinia. As I failed you. I hope the accommodations at Skyhold are to your liking. If you want for anything, please let Ambassador Montilyet know. Good night, Loghain." All her aloof reserve, her feigned indifference – it had not been because she cared too little for him, but, perhaps, too much.

"Wait." She stilled, though for a moment he feared she might not. Her hand rested on the heavy oaken watchtower door. He approached her, unable to keep his blood from thrumming through his veins as he grew closer to her, the remembered scent and feel of her rising in his memory.

"You didn't fail me," he said roughly. He reached out for her, and his cock stirred as his callused hands encircled her slender waist. "You didn't fail Justinia, and you won't fail the Inquisition. You'll go mad if you think you can prevent every calamity on Thedas. In my arrogance and pride I thought I could save Ferelden by myself, and look where that got me. Don't make my mistakes, Leliana. Don't try to save the world by yourself. A wise man knows when to share his burdens." He smirked as he pulled her close, his cock responding eagerly as her lithe frame pressed against his unyielding strength. "I suppose a wise woman must, as well."

With a deft motion, she freed herself from his grasp and spun to face him, desire and consternation written on her face in equal measure.

"What are you doing?"

"I should have thought that was perfectly obvious," he replied, unable to resist the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She shook her head, but he saw it in her eyes – the old-remembered glimmer of playful anticipation that she always had when he smirked at her. "After everything I did to you, you still want me? After all these years?"

"Even so." He moved to her, and this time she did not push him away. "You always saw through my armor, Leliana. You ignored my antagonism, disregarded my jibes about Orlesians, and resisted my every attempt to push you away. You broke down my walls and made me a better man for it. Let me do the same for you."

"Loghain – " Her voice was a sigh, a breath of anticipation as she moved for him, but he was faster – his lips were on hers, claiming her again for his own, and he was lost in her. Maker, she was so sweet – her soft lips tasted of berries, and he traced his tongue across each in turn, begging entrance, until she granted him mercy and allowed him into the sweetness of her mouth. His tongue slipped across hers and he groaned into her mouth, lost in rediscovering her. Abruptly she pulled away, their lips separating with a smack, and he glared at her, heart hammering against his chest.

"Leliana, what –" But then she was tugging at his hand and pushing open the watchtower door with the other, pulling him behind her into the dusky dim light of the abandoned tower. It was no watchtower worthy of the name – broken masonry and debris littered the floor, save for a sad lonely stone bench that occupied the far corner.

"Too many eyes outside," she said. "I want to take my time with you." Blood roared through his ears and his cock stiffened further – it had been so long since he'd taken her, and he felt like a strutting young buck, eager in his anticipation.

"You can take your time later," he growled, pulling her close and giving her a searing kiss. "I don't mean to wait."

She whimpered against his mouth, her hands sliding up the back of his armor to tangle in his hair. Possessed of the desire to see her, he reached up and jerked her cowl away, revealing the gorgeous red hair he'd always loved to his hungry eyes.

"You're overdressed," he snarled. "Why do you hide yourself beneath all these cloaks and hoods? Part of the mysterious spymaster mystique?"

She laughed as she began to unbuckle the clasps of his armor. "Loghain Mac Tir, accusing anyone else of being overdressed! That is surely the height of hypocrisy. Do you remember how long it took me to get you out of that ridiculous armor you wore during the Blight? Maker, so many buckles!" She finished unbuckling his cuirass in startlingly quick fashion and let it fall to the floor, her eyes widening with appreciation as she beheld his broad, muscular chest, covered now only in his simple linen undershirt.

"Like what you see?" Loghain was not usually the sort of man to boast of his sexual allure, but the hungry look in her eyes fed his need and longing, and he found himself filled with cocky swagger.

"I'd like it better if I could see more." Her hands found the hem of his shirt and she pulled it up smoothly over his head, revealing his bare chest to her ravenous gaze. She sighed blissfully as she placed her hands flat on the broad expanse of his chest, her nimble fingers tickling delicately across his coarse chest hair and taut, hard muscles.

"I missed this," she purred, leaning in to trail her tongue across his collarbone and down his chest. When she closed her soft lips around a nipple, he growled and wound his hands through her hair, his hips bucking in desire. His cock strained tight against his chausses, and – undoubtedly knowing what torment she caused, the unbearable minx – Leliana slid her hands down his chest, following the trail of dark hair down beneath his navel until she brushed against his length, stiff and unyielding beneath his trews.

"Maker!" he roared, taking her by the shoulders and pushing her away from her torturing ministrations. "You're driving me mad, woman!" He grasped the front of her cloak and tugged it open roughly, tossing it to the ground to join his discarded armor and revealing her thin shift beneath. The neckline was cut low, exposing her tantalizing creamy skin, and he could see clearly the darkened peaks of her pert nipples beneath the sheer fabric. Maker, he thought his cock would burst.

"Take that off." It was an order, not a request. She arched an impish eyebrow, and it aroused and delighted him to see this playful side of her once more.

"Ever the general, I see. Very well, ser, as you command." Her hands tugged the shift up and over her head, and Loghain decided, as he feasted his eyes on her naked breasts, that he could bear the strain of his trousers no longer. With a desperate hand, he scrabbled at the clasps of his chausses and jerked them off, taking his smalls with them. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded with desire as she took in the sight of his manhood in all its glorious fullness, and Loghain could not help but smirk.

"Maker, it's even bigger than I remembered," she breathed, and he chuckled, cocksure and full of manly pride. However, he could not resist a self-deprecating quip.

"Perhaps that speaks more to the quality of the men you've had since last we were together."

"There haven't been any men since I was last with you." She sauntered over to him, slipping off her own smalls and removing the last barrier between them. "I knew none could measure up, so why bother?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Orlesian," he growled, palming her breasts with his broad hands and pinching a nipple between his fingers. She moaned in pleasure as he rolled his thumb over her nipples, teasing and toying with the hard nubs until they were swollen and peaked. "My, you are ready. Seven years is a long time to go without, I suppose."

"I never said I'd gone without," she replied coyly. "I only said there hadn't been any men." With a mischievous grin, she placed her hands on his hips and tugged him back with her until his legs bumped against the stone bench. She pushed him lightly on the chest until he sat on the bench, then promptly kneeled between his legs. Loghain's breath hitched in anticipation as she slid her hands slowly down his chest, running her fingers through his chest hair and following it down the line of his belly, until she agonizingly detoured just above the thick thatch of hair at his groin to rest each of her hands against the inside of his thighs.

"Well, Maker's breath, don't make me wait all day," he choked out in a voice strangled with lust. His impatience only prompted a knowing smile.

"Patience, dear Loghain. I want to take my time tasting you." And with that she lowered her head until her parted lips hovered just above the head of his cock. He growled as she remained there for what felt like several minutes, licking her lips, the sensation of her exhaled breath against his heated member excruciating and unbearable. At last she took mercy on him and closed her mouth around the tip of his cock, and it took all his self-restraint to avoid crying out in pleasure as her tongue swirled expertly around his head, while her hand slipped along his thigh to grasp the base of his shaft. Together her hand and mouth moved in harmony up and down the length of his cock, her lips applying pressure as she sucked him eagerly while her hand squeezed and caressed the smooth skin as she stroked him. Loghain had enjoyed teasing her, but in truth, he was the one who had not been with anyone for seven years, and he knew he would not last much longer if she continued to torture him so.

"Leliana!" He'd meant only to speak her name, but it came out in a strangled groan as she opened her throat and took him deep, down to the base of his shaft. He felt his cock trembling and knew he was nearly at his peak, and he pressed gently but insistently against her shoulders until she withdrew her mouth, gazing up at him with a perceptive gleam in her eyes.

"Any more of that and this will be over before it's begun," he rasped, and she smiled, drawing her tongue across his length slowly before placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock.

"I certainly wouldn't want that," she murmured, voice husky with desire. The sight of her naked on her knees before him nearly brought him to the edge right there, and he was determined to have her before he shamed himself like an overeager lad ready to spill at the slightest touch. Legs shaking, he stood up and hauled her up by the arms with him, her lithe naked body pressed against his hard muscular frame, her stiff nipples pressing intently into his chest as his cock jabbed into the softness of her belly. Maker, she was so beautiful – cheeks flushed, hair disheveled, lips dewy and parted. He could not resist stealing a tender but passionate kiss, and his cock twinged as he tasted his own salty essence against her tongue. She moaned softly into his mouth as he twined his tongue against hers, but the spasms of his manhood reminded him that he had little enough time to spare if he was going to fuck her properly. With hands firmly gripped on her narrow shoulders, he turned them both around until she was against the stone bench, then he roughly turned her around in his arms so that her back pressed against him, the perfect roundness of her arse pressing into the curve of his belly just above his straining cock.

"Bend over." He was impressed by how quickly she complied – no jibes or wry remarks this time. She must be as ready as he was. Curious, he slipped a long finger into her cunt, spread before him in invitation. She cried out as he pierced her wet quim, her slippery juices soaking his finger to the knuckle. Yes, she was ready.

"For the Maker's sake, Loghain, I need you in me now," she pleaded. Hearing her beg for him very nearly undid him, and it was all he could do to restrain himself from releasing his seed against her wriggling little arse. He needed her so desperately, but knowing that she needed him too – well, that was a bit of gloating he simply couldn't pass up.

"What was that? I didn't hear you properly." His hand reached down to cup her arse, feeling the soft smooth skin beneath his callused palm. Her growl of impatient frustration was music to his ears.

"Maker take you, Loghain, if you don't fuck me now!" His breath hitched in his throat at her insistence, and he decided they'd both waited long enough. Seven years too long, to be exact. With no further warning, he drove his cock into her quivering cunt, burying himself to the hilt, and he was glad that her own cry of ecstasy drowned out his.

Maker's balls, she felt so perfect – so hot and tight and wet as her walls clenched around his cock, driving him to delirium. Gripping her hips tight, he pounded against her, his cock sliding in and out of her pulsing quim with rhythmic ease. It hardly felt like seven years since he'd last enjoyed her sweet fruit – and he'd be damned if it would be seven more.

"Maker, Leliana, you fit me like a glove," he gasped, his cock throbbing against the tight hot walls of her passage, her juices coating him with every thrust.

"Loghain," she wailed, and if she'd intended to say more, it was soon subsumed by a long, low moan, and he saw her spine stiffen and arch as she gripped the edge of the bench and threw her head back, crying out as her quim tightened around him, gripping his cock and milking him as she rode him to her release. The sensation of her climax was too much for him to bear, and Loghain had no time to withdraw as his own release took him, his cock buried deep inside her, filling her with his seed as he groaned in pleasure. Spent, he sagged against her, the musky scent of sex and the sounds of their ragged, gasping breath filling the watchtower.

She slipped around so that she was facing him, and wordlessly he took her in his arms as they slumped down onto the bench, the cool stone a startling sensation against the heat of their skin. Possessed of a tenderness he could not explain, Loghain nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, sweet and sweaty, as he placed a kiss to the crown of her head. She giggled softly at his affections, her face buried in his neck.

"I hope this means you'll be staying with the Inquisition, at least for a time," she offered, and he heard the wary caution in her voice that came from a lifetime of distrust. He knew all too well how that felt – and how tired he was of living that way.

"I'll stay with you as long as you'll have me," he said. He hoped she noted his particular choice of words, and that it settled her fears, as much as such soul-deep fears could ever be settled. When she didn't reply, he was afraid that she hadn't heard him – or worse, that she'd heard him, but had already begun to distance herself again, in preparation for her inevitable departure. A sudden, desperate sadness pierced him through – had he broken down her walls only to be shut out yet again?

But then she snuggled into him deeper, her nose brushing against the emerging stubble on his jaw, and a reassuring peace settled across him as she placed a soft, chaste kiss against his cheek.

"I think I'd like that," she said. And he knew then that all would be well.


End file.
